Riders Of Destiny
by MackMaverick
Summary: Years after Galbatorix's demise,a new evil reign when the Grey Folk's ancient enemy rose.Eragon and Saphira must return when all hope is lost and unite with Murtagh and Thorn.They are destined riders and only combining their powers can save Alagaesia.Can Eragon deny his fate of leaving Alagaesia to save his home?Can Murtagh get over his past mistakes and save Alagaesia?Review pls.
1. Chapter 1: Prologue

**Chapter 1: Prologue**

**This is my new story! Please review. The story happens twenty years later after Inheritance.**

A pale moon hung over the lands of Alagaesia, but the surrounding clouds were so thick that it blocked the white moonlight from shining down on the lands of Surda. The air was still and humid, and it was a harbinger of imminent doom. All was silent. All was darkness too, except the castle of Aberon.

In one of the windows, only an illuminated candle lighted up the entire room. King Orrin sat on an ornate chair behind a huge desk. Years had seen his beard and hair gone white. Rolls of paperwork and scrolls littered his desk as well as his science apparatus. Most of the letters called for corporate taxes and trading terms with other states, which apparently, was driving him insane. However, he was not perturbed about all these; instead his thoughts were of the High Queen of Ilirea, Queen Nasuada. And they hated.

Despite the demise of Galbatorix, life was not of what he had expected before. He placed a hand on his forehead as he tried to calm his interwined thoughts. Today, Nasuada had halved his territorial rights, claiming that more peasants had needed land for agriculture and building new homes. Although what she had claimed seemed right, he felt what she did was wrong. He was a king. The king of Surda! Yet Queen Nasuada had denied his monarchy powers and gave the lands to the peasants without even him knowing. What did she take him for? From that day she took power from Galbatorix, he had felt this arrangement was wrong. He should be the ruler of Alagaesia; after all, he had provided most of the men to help the Varden rebel against Galbatorix. He was the one who provided the army,the most provisions and supplies and roof for the dwaves and the Varden. What did Nasuada do but only led the Varden, a small group of people?

Why did Queen Arya of the elves and King Orik of the dwarves had more say over him, as seen when Nasuada had always respected their descisions?

His anger reached its climax and with a single swipe of his hand, sent the scrolls, quills and paperwork on his desk flying to the ground. He then pounded his fist repeatedly on his desk with rage. He yearned for power over this land. If only he could rebel, like Galbatorix, but he lacked the power. Nasuada had more magicians than he did in Du Vrangr Gata and she had Queen Arya of the elves, who was a dragon rider. Even if he could, Eragon could come running back, this time with new dragon riders to prevent him from venturing too far. Then, a sinister plan formed in his mind. Ringing a bell beside his table, he called for a person.

After a few minutes,there was a knock on the door and a soldier called to him. "The prisoner, Your Sire."

After hastily clearing all his things on the floor, the soldier sent the person in. He was clad in a black cloak and as he looked up at the king, Orrin could see that his face was pale. His cold black eyes stared up at the king. Clearing his throat, King Orrin queried the prisoner. " Do you know why even though you are one of Galbatorix's pet magician, I did not send you to the High Queen for execution. It's because you seem knowledgeable and excel in the arts of magic and if you are dead, it will be a waste. If you can help me gain more power over Alagaesia, I will spare your life."

The magician was quiet for a while, then he spoke in a whisper. " My lord is wise. But heed this, I am only loyal to Galbatorix. I can help you usurp Nasuada's power, but not gain the throne."

"If that are your terms, so be it."

The black mage smiled. "I can see evil and hatred within your heart. Excellent! Eragon may have use the lost Eldunari to kill Galbatorix, but his secrets are many and even some of the darkest secret the elves knew not. if they still exist, Galbatorix still reign. If you will cooperate, I wish to unleash an ancient power of darkness; a power that not even the Word of the ancient language can hope to match. Before his death, Galbatorix was seeking for this but he failed. Today, I come before you with what I have found."

Reaching from his cloak, he pulled out a large black book."This contain all the secrets of this power and if we can unleash it, Nasuada will surely fall."

What the magician had said made Orrin felt guilty about asking him for a favour. But greed soon overwhelmed him. "Then let's proceed-" Before the king could continue, the magician tossed him the book.

"Please read pages hundred to two hundred, then meet me in your dungeons." With that, the magician was gone, leaving the king all alone. Orrin stared at the book for a long time. It was battered and dusty and the title was in ancient language too difficult for him to understand._ He did not chant the ancient language to teleport himself, _the king then noticed. Fear gripped him but he dismissed it quickly. All he wanted was power right now and the respect he deserved.

After that, he began to thumbed through the pages and came to page hundred. The writing was faint but legible. A part then caught his attention:

_... and the Grey Folk devised the most complicated of all spells, and locked their ancient foe, Gaulezos within time and space. Although it subdued him, it will only be a temporary spell..._

* * *

Eragon laid on a patch of grass and observed the bud of a flower with awe. _I didn't know loivissa exists on this remote place._

_Anything can happen, little one,_ Saphira answered her rider. The sapphire dragon laid on her fours, basking in the sunlight as both her mesmerizing eyes focused on her rider.

After staring at the bud, Eragon placed his left palm near it. Then, reaching deeply into his energy reserve, he sang the song that reminded of his past:

_Eldhrimner O Loivissa nuanen, dautr abr deloi_

_Eldhrimner nen ono weohnataί medh solus un thringa_

_Eldhrimner un fortha onr __fëon vara_

_Wiol allr sjon_

His gedwëy ignasia glowed as he chanted. The flower bud beneath his palm twitched before opening to reveal the deep blue petals of a blue throated lily. Subsequently, under the infleunce of the spell, the other flower buds near him also bloomed. He had been practising this spell ever since he reached this place and he now could manage not only to bloom one lily but a multitude of them. He smiled as he admired the result of his work. A single name came to his mind._ Arya._

_You had me thinking about Firnen again,_ Saphira told him when she found him reminiscing about Arya. Eragon chuckled. He had grown a lot during these twenty years. His sight and hearing had improved over the years, as a result of the spell the dragons had casted on him. He was part human, elf in physical appearance and part dwarf in blood. As he laid with both his arms behind his head, he could not help but thinking back of his homeland, Alagaesia.

Suddenly he froze and he sat up immediately as a gentle wind blew past him. _What is it?_ Saphira asked.

_The wind. It's strange but I am sure it is calling me._

_Calling you for what?_

_To go back to Alagaesia. Trouble is brewing._ He had felt it. The wind is not ordinary, somehow there is a strain of magic in it. Who could be so skilled as to cast magic into the wind? But no matter what, he had felt a sense of urgency in it, and it hinted trouble. Saphira then tasted the air with her tongue, and after a long pause said,_ It seems you are right._

_Saphira, we must meet Glaedr-elda and the rest of the Eldunari in the cavern and speak of this. _Eragon said before getting up and bukling his sword, Brisingr, to his waist.

**There! This is Chapter One! I know you have many queries, like how can he go back to Alagaesia when his fate was to leave there forever. But it seems all is not done even after killing Galbatorix. Evil is still present. Read on to find out.**

**Pls review!**


	2. Chapter 2: Land Of Dragon Riders

**Chapter 2: Land Of Dragon Riders**

**This is my second chapter. I've decided approach this story in different points of view. Enjoy. Thanks for the reviews I've received.**

Although the distance to the Cavern of Eldunari was not far, Eragon rode his dragon to get there. Ever since he had been bonded with Saphira, both of them enjoyed being airborne. The feeling was marvellous, as if one literally had all the freedom one had always wanted. Furthermore, the feeling of the wind blowing past them always feel cool and refreshing, rejuvenating their limbs. The bond between dragon and rider played a part too. From Saphira, Eragon could sense all the sensations from his dragon while flying and they felt great.

As Saphira dove through a cloud and sent numerous water droplets onto the both of them, the water refracted the sunlight of her scales, resulting in them shimmering and sparkling in the sunlight. Within a minute, Eragon was drenched though he ignored it. They flew past lush green hills and forest vegetations, heading for the direction of the Dragon Riders' territory which they had established with the help of the elves and Eldunari twenty years ago. They had spent many months searching for the suitable land to rebuild the Riders' legacy while cruising on the waters beyond Alagaesia on the_ Talitha,_their elven ship.

Finally, when Saphira happened to spot this land, it was already a few thousand miles from Alagaesia. The moment Eragon set foot on this new land, it was his instinct that told him that this was the appropriate land for re-establishing the riders. Not only the land overlooked a majestic scenery of the horizon which might have proved condusive for the Riders' educational training, food and fresh water was also abundant on this land; there were so many freshwater springs that there was more than enough water and the lands were so arable that they were able to yield plenty of food. With the elves casting protective and growing spells on the crops, no doubt they would have enough food.

Now, as both Eragon and Saphira flew over the new Riders' stronghold, both of them could not have been proud of themselves for their efforts. The buildings were unlike of those in Vroengard made of stone, but they were made of trees that grew in humongous sizes due to spells sung out by the elves. Each building were big enough to hold a full-grown dragon and the widows and doorways were enormous, fashioned out of gold, jewels and were also stone and granite barracks that were big enough to house over hundreds of Riders. Though incomparable to those of Vroenguard, they were still magnificent as they towered over the lands. Despite how marvellous the new land was, Eragon hadn't wanted to name this stronghold.

Between the buildings were narrow winding pathways made of marble. They meandered round the Riders' sanctuary. Surrounding the stronghold were evergreen ancient forests that could have been there for million of years.

_After so many years, we have acomplished what we have initially come here for,_ Eragon told Saphira as she flew past the Riders' training field. She answered him by arching her head and emitting a loud trumpet. Below them, the clashes of swordfights ceased as riders and their dragons looked up at them. The dragons roared in response and their roars mingled as one while directed at them. Then, their riders upon their back shouted at to them and lifted their swords high up. Eragon followed their actions and lifted Brisingr high in response.

Eragon smiled when he saw how the riders treated him and Saphira with respect. Nevetheless, he still felt uncomfortable. He was the leader of the Riders now and that much of respect was too much for he to bargain for._ Is this how Vrael feel when he was leader hundred years ago?_

_This is our reward after going through much for the past twenty years. Rejoice. _Saphira told him while she headed for a large outcrop of rock jutting out from a mountainous region. Eragon sighed and shifted to a more comfortable position. His brown hair fluttered wildly in the wind and he brushed his fringe aside to prevent them from blocking his view.

His thoughts ran back to what he discovered just now. His late master, Oromis had taught him how to detect magic. Without doubt, there was certainly traces of magic in the wind he had felt while strolling with Saphira in the wilderness just now. Though the magic was faint, there was tinge of urgentness in it, like someone calling for his help. Moreover, it came from the north; therefore, it certainly didn't come from any of the dragon riders here for north of this island was the sea. To add on, who could be so skilled to cast magic into the wind? So far, none of the riders was skilled enough to accomplish this feat, much less him.

Most strange was that he truly felt that this strain of magic came from Alagaesia itself and he still had no idea why. Perhaps he still missed his homeland.

Once Saphira landed on a rocky platform, Eragon climbed down her back immediately. There were two elven guards standing beside a yawning cave and one of them rushed forward to meet him as soon as he approached the cave. The young elven rider was shorter than him. His hair was like black starlight and his eyes were like two black topaz. "May I be of your help, Eragon-elda ?" he asked in a high lilting tone before bowing to both Eragon and Saphira.

"I need to see the Eldunari. I have something to report. You needn't be so formal towards me, Lambric. After all, we have been friends for so long." Eragon favoured this elf. He was one of the elves who travelled with him to find this land. It was only a few days later when his dragon hatched for him on board the_ Talitha._ From then on, he had always assisted Eragon in his training of other riders.

Lambric gave him a smile before ushering him into the cavern._ I will be waiting for you outside,_ Saphira told him.

The first thimg that Eragon saw when he first entered the cavern was Cuaroc. As usual, the metallic-dragon-headed-man automaton was holding on to his purple sword. The contraption, controlled by a purple Eldunari within, creaked and groaned as it beckoned them forward. Being the protector of this sacred cavern, it was its duty to check on visitors, including Eragon himself.

The cave was a large rocky cavern with many rock-like shelves. On the shelves lined an array of Eldunari, varying in different colours. The orbs pulsed with life as the conciousness of the dead dragons resided within. As soon as Eragon neared them, he opened his mind to permit their conciousness to enter him. Their conciousness was like a torrent of water as they rushed in.

_I have something to report-_Eragon announced with his mind before proceeding on to relate what had happened just now. It took him a few minutes before saying out everything through his mind. After that, Eragon was concious of the dragons communicating among themselves before they queried Saphira about what had happened.

After being satisfied with her answer, they then proceeded to extend their conciousness over the entire island, sensing for any strain of magic that is still present. Then, the conciousness of Oromis's dragon, Glaedr spoke to him. _There is indeed a strain of magic suspended over this island. Like what you have mentioned, none of our disciples could be so skilled to cast magic into the air, not even our greatest elven spellcasters._

_However, the magic does seem to be coming in the direction of Alagaesia, _the conciousness of Umaroth, a white dragon told him. Being the dragon of the first elven leader of the Riders, Vrael and also one of the oldest dragons here, his deep voice, thick with wisdom rumbled within his mind.

_We will investigate this by contacting the spellcasters in Du Weldenvarden and inform them of this,_ Glaedr spoke to him again._ In the meantime, we must not let this be known to all the riders and their dragons._

_I understand_, Eragon answered. However, he still felt a sense of worriness within him. Somehow, the message contained within the magic had signaled something and it was certainly not something good. He was certain that it had come from Alagaesia, but who had been so skilled to cast it and why? These were the questions in his head. Has something bad befallen Alagaesia?

While the dragons continued discussing among themselves, Eragon's worriness was replaced by another feeling. This time, it was cold, hard and biting fear.

* * *

**On Sharktooth island,Evenfall**

A young boy was playing with his leather ball near the evergreen jungle of Sharktooth Island. His laughters rocked the air as he tossed his ball into the air before catching it again. He tossed it again and again. Behind him, the sea crashed against the rock shoreline, the waves rippling as they made soapy traces on the shores.

It was after a few minutes when a wind suddenly swept his ball up a tree just as he tossed it up and left it stuck between the branches. But the little boy just smiled at that. Then a voice,deep with magic floated into his ears. "Reisa!"

The ball then lifted itself from the branches of the tree and drifted itself towards the boy's open hands. Once it landed, the boy smiled at the approaching man. The man was dressed in dark overalls and boots. He wore a pair of silver gloves and a silver mask that only covered only the upper part of his face. The wind tousled his black hair. He had a crossbow strapped to his back and carried a sword in his left hand. The pommel of the sword was a red ruby that glowed blood-red under the setting sun.

"Thank you, Murtagh!" the boy thanked the man cheerily.

"No problem, Anton," Murtagh smiled at him.

**How's that for Chapter Two? Murtagh is back and he had changed. The evil forces are stirring. What will happen next? Do read on. **

**Pls review.**


	3. Chapter 3:The Reign Of Darkness

Chapter** 3: The Reign Of Darkness**

**Thanks for all the reviews. I do admit that I did not reveal much in the first two chapters. I want to create suspense. Rest assured that I will cover much in the upcoming chapters. Now, this is chapter 3.**

" Rider Murtagh, your hand is trembling. Are you alright?" Anton asked as both him and the red rider ventured deeper into the dense forests of Sharktooth island. Hearing the little boy's words, Murtagh looked down at both his hands. His left hand seemed okay, saved for bruises from his previous fights. It was his right hand that was showing the tremulous signs. Trying to sustain it, Murtagh clenched his right hand into a fist tightly.

"I'm... okay," he replied to Anton, smiling at him weakly.

"Where will we be meeting Thorn?" the boy asked again. Without replying, Murtagh pointed to a distant outcrop of rock. The roar of a waterfall can be heard from afar. His trembling hand worried him. It had always been a sign; a bad sign that something bad was going to happen. This was often caused by his blood tingling in his veins. Since he was young, he always had this ability. He had always thought it as his instinct warning him of certain dangers, but his late companion, Tornac viewed this differently.

"Your blood is special," Tornac had said when he once told him of this. "Have you heard of King Palancar and his descendants? It's said that their blood contain a form of inexplicable magical energy that may unleashed when they are one. Those who became Riders are mighty, strong and their spellcraft are comparable to that of the elves. They are known to be the strongest of all human Riders. It's very likely you belong to their bloodline, though I am unsure of how closely related you are to them," Tornac continued. Till now, he still could not fully comprehend what Tornac meant. But since he was bonded to Thorn, this tingling feeling in his right hand had gotten stronger.

_If what Tornac said is true, does this power belong to my mother, Selena or Morzan? If it belong to my mother, does Eragon have it too?_ His thoughts then turned to Eragon. Did he manage to find a place to rebuild the Rider's legacy? How have he been? Murtagh smiled as he thought of his half-brother. As much as he tried to scry him, he only saw patches of black and white. Even now, he still envied Eragon. He had so many allies that sided with him, so many close friends. This is especially so when he rid the land of evil by killing Galbatorix.

_What about me?_Murtagh thought to himself glumly._ Nothing but a pawn of Galbatorix._ Even after twenty years, the hatred shown towards him by elves, dwarves and even humans never ceased. Although Queen Nasuada had shown him mercy and forgiveness, the dwellers of Alagaesia still shunned him as a worthless piece of trash. Even since he had parted ways with Eragon, he had lived in wilderness on Sharktooth island, alone with Thorn. There was a monastery on this island and both him and Thorn had been visiting it ever since they set foot on here. Although they might be freed from Galbatorix, both rider and dragon still need a place to cleanse their once-evil hearts and minds.

Murtagh glanced at Anton as they neared the waterfall. Anton was from a village on Sharktooth island and he was the only friend and companion Murtagh ever had since Tornac's death. They had met on coincidence when Anton had injured himself in the forest and Murtagh had healed him. From then on, they had become friends, especially since the boy had taken a liking towards his dragon. Murtagh prepared himself as the tingling sensation in his hand worsened. No matter what, he was determined to protect his one and only friend.

It took the duo a few minutes before they reached the waterfall. The water fell from the rocky outcrop several kilometres above ground level. As they cascaded against the rocks, the large volume of water made a thunderous sound as they plunged into a large pool. The air smelled of the salt from the nearby sea and everywhere were lush green vegetations. "Where is Thorn?" Anton asked eagerly.

Murtagh smiled as he approached a nearby creek. Then he opened his conciousness and reached out towards the surroundings. It took him only a few minutes before he sensed Thorn. _I'm coming,_ Thorn told him in his musical voice.

"Thorn is on his way-" Murtagh said as he turned back to Anton. However his voice faded when he saw the little boy was not there. He looked around frantically but there was no sign of Anton.

"Anton!" Murtagh shouted, his voice rising to a panic. _Where did he go? _Suddenly, someone grabbed him behind and pushed him into the creek. As Murtagh fell into the water, he felt a pair of cold hands grasped his neck... and tightened. He struggled and tried to get up but his ambusher held him firmly underwater. _Thorn! _He felt a second of panic coming from Thorn ashis dragon rushed towards their location. For a second or two, his vision flashed red and white. His lungs felt like bursting as he was running out of air. Bubbles floated out from his mouth.

Still, he struggled against his agressor to get to the water surface. Once he managed to get to the surface, his mouth formed a single word. "Jierda!"

There was a loud crack and a red flash from his right palm and he felt the pair of hands left his throat. Spluttering and gasping, Murtagh got out from the water. His eyes widened when he saw his attacker impaled through the chest by a tree branch, hanging on a tree. He wore the red tunic of the Surda empire and the bronze helmet and crushed iron brestplate confirmed he was a soldier from Surda.

_What is King Orrin's soldiers doing here? _Murtagh thought to himself as he pulled himself out of the creek. Then, he saw two more of Surdan soldiers standing not far from him. Both of them had their swords drawn. But what caught his attention was their pale faces and how their eyes glowed red as they stared at him maliciously. A shiver of fear ran down Murtagh's spine. To him, they are no longer alive and concious of what they are doing right now. One of them was holding Anton on his neck with his sword at the boy's throat. Anton was sobbing quietly and his face was masked with fear.

"Let him go!" Murtagh shouted out to them. His hand reached for Zaroc but hesitated. Instead he drew his crossbow and nocked an arrow. However, the soldiers remained silent, nor they made any effort to do as he wished. Then, the one closest to him rushed towards him with his sword raised.

Suddenly, there was a loud roar. Then the soldier was set ablazed with red flames. Next came a flash of red scales as Murtagh watched Thorn's claws raked across the soldier's face. Blood sprayed as the soldier tumbled into the creek with a loud splash. _Are you alright?_ Thorn asked as he landed a few paces from him.

Giving a curt nod, Murtagh fired his crossbow and watched the arrow sailed and pierced into the left shoulder of the last soldier just as he was distracted. The soldier stumbled backwards and released Anton. The boy immediately ran to Thorn. _He can't feel pain._ Murtagh frowned as he watched the soldier pulled the arrow out and flung it onto the ground.

Before the soldier could ran towards him, Murtagh fired another arrow through his head. The soldier shuddered before crumbling onto the ground.

Thorn moved to the corpse and sniffed it. Then he snorted._ The soldier have been dead long ago. It looks like someone is controlling their minds. _The red dragon had grown to an enormous size for the past twenty years. Thorn's scales sparkled like rubies as the sunlight fell on them. His legs bulged with muscles as they moved. Most intimidating was the line of sharp spikes that sprouted from his head and sides of his jaws. Ever since they had started growing, Thorn had been proud of them.

Suddenly Murtagh heard a shout from afar. Turning around, he saw a woman rushing towards them. When she reached, she pulled Anton away from Thorn and Murtagh.

"How dare you come near my son!" the woman shrieked as she pointed an accusing finger at them. When she saw the dead soldier, she backed away again while pulling Anton with her.

"You did this, didn't you!" She continued ranting and accusing them as 'desecretors' and 'traitors to the Riders' before going back into the forest, dragging Anton with her.

"Mum~," Anton tried to explain but the lady silenced him with a tight slap across his left cheek before dragging him with her. Anton glanced back at her, his face hurt as fresh tears flowed out of his eyes. Meanwhile, Murtagh remained silent as he gripped the crossbow tightly till his knuckles turned white. He had never felt so helpless before.

Anton gave Murtagh an apologetic look before following the woman. When they had gone, Murtagh could only stare.

Then, tears flowed out from his eyes and down his cheeks...

**This is Chapter 3. Hope you like it. In the next chapter, I will write about Nasuada. I hope you will stay on with this story.**

**Pls review.**


	4. Chapter 4: Tenga's Visit

**Chapter 4: Tenga's Visit**

**Once again, I really appreciate all the reviews. Pls enjoy chapter 4.**

Nasuada leafed through the numerous scrolls and parchments that laid on her ebony desk. Then, she sighed and laid back on her throne. Being a queen was never easy, much less a High Queen. That was what she had learnt over these past twenty years. Fortunately, being a leader of the Varden during the rule of Galbatorix had helped her a lot. At least, she had learnt the basis of leadership. She was no longer the woman she used to be; foolishness and naivety weren't part of her anymore. In people's eyes, she was now seen as determined and courageous for a queen, especially due to the prospect that she had participated in the Trial Of Long Knives. She smiled as she thought of her past self; what she had been before she embraced the leadership of the Varden._ I have changed a lot._

Her chamber was set in the highest point of the castle, overlooking the bustling city of Ilirea. At least, that was what she saw through the large glass windows of her room. After the demise of Galbatorix, the castle which she was staying now was rebuilt. A few kilometres ahead of the castle laid the border walls made of stone and wood, which surrounded the castle. Her soldiers, dressed in brown tunics and black brestplates while holding spears stood guard here and there round the walls. Beyond laid the streets of Ilirea, covered with numerous markets, shops, houses. The people mingled about, making a clamorous noise as they roamed through the streets. After Eragon and Saphira had ended Galbatorix's rule, Ilirea had been one of the most prosperous cities in Alagaesia._ And it is all thanks to you, Eragon._

Eragon had been sending her letters ever since he had found the new land to re-establish the Riders. The new land was thousand of kilometres away from Alagaesia and using magic to contact each other had proved to drain a person dry,even a skilled spellcaster, therefore they had resorted to tedious measure. According to what Eragon had described in his letters, the new land was just as magnificent as Alagaesia and she had wished she was there to see it. Over the years, he had also sent new dragon eggs over to be hatched by potential Riders. The newly chosen Rider would then set forth by ship to the new Rider stronghold to be trained.

There was a knock on her door then and her handmaid, Farica entered before bowing low before her. "Captain Jörmundur requests an audience with you, Your Grace."

Nasuada replied her with a curt nod before gathering up the skirts of her red royal dress as she stood from her throne. Then, she put on her jeweled and gold crown on her head as she made her way to large doors of her chambers.

Jörmundur was waiting for her outside her chamber. He wore plated armour made of steel and iron over his brown tunic. A great sword taller than Nasuada was strapped to his back. His arm muscles bulged as he folded his arms. His face bore a grim look as he watched the queen approached him.

"What brings you to my chamber?" Nasuada asked gently, but in a weary voice.

Unfolding his arms, the captain grumbled in a thick voice. "There is an eccentric visitor who wishes to see you. A hermit, from what I can tell. He insisted on seeing you no matter what we did to chase him away. Unless you object, I suggest you come with me."

"Then lead me to him," Nasuada answered without hesitation. After all, what can a hermit do? With guards by her side, no harm can come to her. Besides, she had Elva the witch-child to warn her of dangers and Galbatorix and his followers were no more.

While Jörmundur led her down the castle, two of the Nighthawks- guards sworn to protect her even if it meant their deaths- followed closely behind her. One of them was a human while the other was a Kull. The Urgal made thunderous footsteps as his feet striked hard on stone while following, his mighty horns protruding out from his forehead.

"Your face looked grim. What has happened?" Nasuada queried as she walked with Jörmundur.

The captain hesitated while continue to lead her to the entrance of the castle. Then he spoke, his voice sounding hollow. "Our scouts spotted forty or more King Orrin's soldiers making their way towards north of Sharktooth island this morning. The soldiers looked and behaved abnormally. Even when our soldiers keeping guard at the island tried to stop them, Orrin's soldiers slew them without reason. I fear something is wrong."

A chill ran down her spine when she heard this._ What is going on in King Orrin's mind? _King Orrin had been acting wierd lately. Not only he did not turned up for a meeting a few weeks ago, he also expressed displeasure in everything she did. Most disturbing was he was often getting into a temper and getting himself drunk and staying up late at night, or so her scouts reported.

"Orrin's soldiers looked abnormal? How do they looked?" Nasuada asked again.

"Dark and pale... as if they are _dead," _came his reply. She kept silent thereafter, her thoughts running within her head.

When they reached the great oaken doors of the castle's entrance, she told him," Sent a hundred of our soldiers to Sharktooth to restrain Orrin's soldiers. If they failed to comply, a battle is imminent. Meanwhile, send more scouts to Surda and contact Queen Arya and King Orik and inform them of such."

"Yes, my lady".

The moment she stepped out of the castle's doors and into the courtyard, she saw a group of Nighthawks surrounding a wry old man. He was dressed in tattered shirt and pants. His hands were covered with veins that appeared bluish beneath his skin. He had a mop of white hair and his beard was so long that it reached the ground. His eyes were strange; they appeared to be staring up in the sky. The old man stood hunched, waiting for her. Compared to the rest of her men, he seemed a foot shorter.

Captain Garven joined her as soon as she approached. Next came footsteps and Nasuada saw the witch child Elva came running up towards her from within. She wore a violet dress and her violet eyes stared up at her. "What are you doing here?" Nasuada asked.

"I felt this visitor as soon as he set foot near the borders of this castle. A person who is able to do that is no ordinary. I have to see who he is," Elva replied in a her throated voice.

_Is this old man a spellcaster? But he look more like a hermit to me. If so, does he meant any harm?_ Heeding Elva's words, Nasuada approached the man slowly and cautiously. The Nighthawks raised their weapons in preparation in case the man did any harm. But the man merely raised his head and gave her a toothy grin as he heard her approached. His pupils constricted as he focused on her.

"Ah... yes, the High Queen, Lady Nasuada. Once the leader of the Varden, now the ruler of these lands. Be sure your heart does not become cursed as that of the dark king." The man smiled, wheezing and panting as he spilled his words.

Captain Garven raised the scabbard he was holding, intending to give the man a blow for disrespect. However, Nasuada raised her hand and he stopped. "And what brings you to the castle?" she asked.

"The days are darkening as we speak. _Our_ darkest enemy is awakening on these ancient lands. I see the destructions everywhere and they are more cruel than that of the Riders' Fall," the man continued.

Nasuada frowned, so did Jörmundur and Elva. "What blasted things are you saying? Galbatorix is dead and our days are peaceful, not like what you said. Your Grace, may I have your permission to execute this man for spouting nonsense," Garven snarled.

The man only smiled. Nasuada ignored the captain and continued her questioning. "How did you know this? Did you foresee it happening?"

"Tenga knows all...Oh, he knows everything. The answer is near; finally, after eons, I'm almost discovering it. Fire, heat, lightning." The man's eyes stared up into the sky again as he rattled his words.

"What answer are you referring to?" Nasuada asked again. This time, a sense of unease crept over her.

"To whatever question we choose. Why the world is round? Why the universe is formed? Why is there heat radiated from fire or light or any other questions you can think of? And my greatest question of all; why, when time and space crossed, there is an inexplicable power within? The answer is near, I see it," the man continued on, heedless of what Nasuada had said.

"Banish him from the castle. We have no need of lunatics here," Garven suggested angrily. The man continued ranting, oblivious to their presence.

Nasuada considered for a while, then she told him," No. We keep him here. He may be of some use to us. Especially now that King Orrin is behaving suspiciously. Who knows what he is up to next? Captain Garven, take this man to one of the small cellars. Ensure that guards are placed outside his room and that he has sufficient food and water."

Garven frowned and hesitated. Then he reluctantly obeyed. As the Nighthawks brought the man-who continued to rant about himself one step to finding the answer- down to the cellars, Nasuada asked Elva who had been all the while quiet."Do you sense any dangers from the man?"

"No,"the witch-girl replied. "But it does seem he can do magic. His mind seemed distraught. However,Nasuada, he meant you no harm. Didn't he mentioned his name is Tenga? That rings a bell in me. Eragon once said he had met this man before and he was the master of the herbalist, Angela."

_Eragon had met him? Why didn't I know of this?_ Nasuada pondered. If what Elva said was true, then Angela must be the apprentice of Tenga. But the herbalist-witch and her werecat had left Ilirea years ago and lived in the wild ever since; no one knows where she is. Then she replied to Elva," I will have my magicians to contact the elves. Maybe the elves will in some way find about Angela's whereabouts. If Angela paid us a visit, she may be able help us deal with Tenga."

_Strange things are happening these days,_ Nasuada thought to herself later as she made her way back to the throne room._ What Tenga said seemed ridiculously unbelieving,but..._ she placed her hand on the side where her heart was, _Why am I worrying... and why did I find his words somewhat believing?_

**This is Chapter Four. How do you like it? Pls give me comments through reviewing. Thanks for reading.**


	5. Chapter 5: Regrets

**Chapter 5: Regrets**

**Once again thanks for all the reviews. Now on with the story!**

**Sharktooth Island**

Murtagh hefted up his sword. Under the direct sunlight, the ruby blade of Zaroc reflected off the rays of the sunlight in all directions; the red blade seemed to sparkle and shimmered as Murtagh drew it up. The dark red ruby on the pommel of the sword pulsed with the energy Murtagh had stored within it over the years. Nevertheless, despite its beauty, the sword itself had a flaw; the colour of the sword was dark for it was filled with remorse and all the past wrongdoings it had been used for._ I wonder how Zaroc was like when it was first forged, does it look so dark and gloomy like now? _Murtagh thought as he spun the sword.

_After all, it was meant to be used by my cursed father and its dark nature suits its name._

He took a deep breath before facing his opponent. The bald old abbot from the monastery looked as if he was from the ancients. He had a long beard that reached out to his waist and he had thick white eyebrows. He wore an orange robe and a necklace of beads hung upon his neck. His eyes were dark and pupiless for they had never seen the world since he was born. In his right hand, the old abbot held his weapon as he readied himself.

"Are you ready?" he asked Murtagh.

"I am ready, Master,"Murtagh replied as both of them stood facing each other with their weapons drawn. Murtagh couldn't help being captivated by the abbot's weapon. It was a huge sword, no doubt, but it looked more like a saber. Aside from its ivory pommel and crossguard, it was the blade that intrigued him the most. After all, it was as_ transparent_ as air but as hard as diamond. The weapon seemed familiar, but he could not make out where he had seen it. It would make you formidable to use such a weapon for the opponent would have a hard time anticipating your moves. _For a man at such an age, he still had great strength to lift such a sword._

_Stop thinking so much and concentrate! _Thorn retorted in the recesses of his mind. Murtagh could feel his dragon up in the skies having his own training by practising a series of complex acrobatics. Taking Thorn's advice, Murtagh wrenched himself free of any of his annoying thoughts and concentrate on his situation. Both of them stood still for a minute or two, then the abbot unleashed his first blow.

The saber made a whooshing sound as it made its way to Murtagh's right shoulder and it seemed to him as if many of such blades were targeted at him. Instinctively, he made a dodge as he lunged towards the abbot's abdomen, the tip of Zaroc aiming for the stomach. The abbot smiled; and before Murtagh could react, the transparent blade was already on Zaroc. The swords sang as they made contact, spikes flying in all direction. It was not long before Murtagh let himself into a frenzy state, throwing multiple blows at the abbot.

_He was_ blind, Murtagh thought,_ yet he could still avoid my attacks with ease._ His opponent was now avoiding every single attack Murtagh threw at him as if he had anticipated it all. Murtagh slashed, lunged and cut but he merely dodged it all and he wasn't even moving his saber. Soon, he came to a realisation that the abbot was just playing with him.

Before long, the abbot was behind him, though Murtagh had no idea when did it happen. Pain encased his arm immediately when he felt the blade of the saber slammed into his shoulder joint. He never felt Zaroc left his hand but the cold edge of the transparent poised at his throat.

"If this was a real battle and we had not dull the edges of our swords, you would have lose that arm," the abbot muttered with his face near Murtagh's. Murtagh tried to free himself but the abbot was still as strong as he was and he managed to pin him down. Both of them stayed in that position for a minute or two before the abbot let him go.

"The sword is not merely a weapon; portray it as a part of your living body and let your emotional content flow to direct you. Now pick up your weapon." The abbot motioned towards Zaroc when he had finished saying that.

_See, I told you to concentrate_, Thorn told him in his musical voice. Murtagh could feel the red dragon flying towards them after completing his training.

Feeling irritated, Murtagh snapped,_ And what do you know about swords?_

_As much as tooth and claw._

After he had picked up Zaroc, he readied himself again. This time he tried to let his instincts flow but the moment he beheld Zaroc's blood-red glow, he felt unease again for it reminded him of his dark history. Not caring further, he shouted as he lunged towards the abbot, swishing and slashing his sword. It was before long when he found himself lying on the ground again and the tip of the transparent blade at his throat. Murtagh was panting loudly as he looked up to the abbot. His master towered above him, his dark eyes hard on Murtagh.

The moment the abbot let Murtagh free, the fury within him left him with no control. "Jierda!" Murtagh roared hurling the spell at the abbot. The abbot made no move to dodge but raised his saber and slashed at the spell. A boom filled the air as the spell dissipated into tiny air currents._ How did he do that?_

There was no sign of anger on the abbot's face but that of deep sadness. Murtagh suddenly regreted his actions.

"Your anger get the better of you. You come to this monastery to free yourself of the guilt and hatred from your past actions and I am more than willing to help you. But I can still see them inside you. Zaroc had become a burden to you for it reminded you of your wrongdoings. In the meantime, refrain from using it till you free yourself from this agony. Zaroc may have brought about much pain to you but still it is a sword and sword is life; you must come to realise that. For now, reflect on your actions." Saying that, the abbot turned and headed back to the monastery which was a few metres away from where they were.

Murtagh sighed, his heart feeling downcast. Swirling his sword, he shoved Zaroc back into his scabbard and sat down on a rock. His thoughts were distorted as he pondered on what his master had told him. Indeed, it was always anger and the guilt within him. After so many years, his past experience as a pawn of Galbatorix continued to haunt him. Honestly speaking, he felt weak, incomplete, as if his life as a Rider was handicapped; he wanted to change but he always found it difficult.

There was suddenly buffs of wind and he felt his ears popped. Clouds of sand flew past him as Thorn landed not far from him. While the dragon folded his massive red wings, his jaws widened as he showed his huge rows of razor-sharp teeth. The dragon was as big as a house now and Murtagh could not help but feel proud of Thorn. Thorn's coat of scales like winking rubies under the sunlight.

_How was your training?_ Murtagh prodded a rock with a twig while asking mentally.

_Still finding it difficult to complete the acrobatics master taught me, _Thorn replied in the ancient language.

Taken aback, Murtagh changed his tongue. _It takes time. Speaking of such, I wonder how master know how to teach dragons?_

Thorn snorted. _We never had any teachers who are Riders, so be grateful about it... what about you? I take it that your training didn't go as well as you had expected._

_Its just... _Murtagh faltered. Black smoke escaped from Thorn's nostrils as the dragon gazed at him.

_I know, sometimes I felt what you are feeling now and it affects my training. We never seem to be able to let go of the past, can we? Nevertheless, that's the purpose we are here._

Murtagh never replied but nodded instead. He continued to fiddle with the twig before snapping it in half. They were on top of a sandy cliff, overlooking the dense forests of Shartooth island. The monastery was behind them, built of marble and whitewashed stones. It towered a couple of metres tall and they could hear the shouts of the monks training within.

Suddenly Thorn arched his neck and looked far ahead._ Is that smoke?_

Murtagh tried to see. Because of the lush green vegetation that laid out before them, it took him a few minutes before he spotted several spires of white smoke ahead of them within the forests. He took it to be campfires at first but grew suspicious when he saw that there were too many spires of smoke; besides the smoke rose to the air in large columns and they could never be coming from campfires.

_That's coming from Anton's village. _A sense of worriness gripped Murtagh when he realised that. He and Thorn had often flew past Anton's village without the villagers knowing, for they disliked the red pair. Murtagh could recognised the site easily just by looking. Immediately he grabbed his crossbow and staff that was laying by his side. Swinging the scabbard containing Zaroc on his shoulder, he ran towards Thorn.

Thorn didn't need to be told what to do. As soon as Murtagh had climbed on his back, the red dragon took to the skies, his wings making buffeting sounds as he made his way to the spires of smoke...

* * *

_I smelled blood,_ Thorn growled as he flew towards the smoke.

As soon as Murtagh heard his words, fear replaced the worriness deep within his heart. He thought about Anton and feared that something bad had befallen him. While he was pondering, his right hand gripped his crossbow tightly; he would have to kill again soon and he must practised controlling his thoughts. Silently, he vowed not to let his emotions get the better of him. _Forget your past, Murtagh; you are no longer working for Galbatorix but killing enemies for the High Queen._

A warm feeling came over him when he thought of Nasuada, but he brushed away his thoughts, least Thorn grew aware of them. When they reached the site, what he saw confirmed his suspicion. The rim of trees surrounding Anton's village had been burned, the orange flames devouring the timbers. Within the village itself, he could see that many of the wooden houses was destroyed and flames licked at them, coughing thick black smoke into the sky. From above, they looked like tiny structures that glowed orange.

Anguish filled him, followed by fear when he thought of Anton. _" _Descend," he cried out to Thorn. The red dragon circled around the site before landing on a grassy patch not far from the village.

The entire village had been massacred. Corpses lying in twisted grotesque shapes were everywhere. Murtagh saw men who were trying to protect their families slewn, lying on top of their dead wives or children. The elderly and babies were not spared either, with spears or arrows through their bodies. Murtagh recognised some of the dead as Nasuada's soldiers by their brown tunics and black armour and helms. Apparently, they were trying to defend the village._ But their numbers were too few,_ Murtagh thought bitterly. Just the sight of that made Murtagh want to retch. Apart from them, the once vibrant village now seemed deserted. Already, crows were feeding on the corpses.

His thoughts went back to Anton and he started rushing to Anton's house immediately. From what he remembered, the house was located near the edge of the forests. "Anton!" he shouted while he ran, Thorn following closely behind him. However, silence ensued, except for the cawing of the crows.

Anton's house was just as like the others, all in ruins. The door was unhinged and the windows shattered. A crow was pecking at the eyes of a dead man near the doorstep of the house. "Anton!" Murtagh called again, this time more desparate. He gripped his loaded crossbow till his knuckles turned white.

"Looking for him?" Suddenly, a voice above spoke menacingly. Looking at the roof of the house, Murtagh saw Anton and another man dressed in dark robes. The boy's face was a deep shade of purplish-black and his head was bowed low with his eyes close. His lips were so pale that it looked like it lacked colour. Pressing a black dagger on his throat, the man in black robes spoke in a cold voice. "So, Murtagh, son of the ever-notorious Fornsworn, Morzan, you've come, just like we've expected." He gave the blade of his dagger a lick before pressing it on Anton's throat as he held him.

"Don't mention my that name! What have you done to the boy?" Murtagh shouted as he aimed his crossbow at the man.

The man looked at him with his cold blue eyes. Then he surveyed his black fingernails. "You hate your father, don't you? That name was like a curse, doesn't it? How sweet. Anyway, how can you treat someone you've known with disrespect?"

Murtagh frowned before looking at the man's pale face again. Then he gasped. "You're Lothor, that magician leader working for Galbatorix. Since Galbatorix was killed, you've disappeared." Behind him, Thorn snarled, baring his teeth.

Lothor smiled. "I'm working for King Orrin now. Orrin wants you dead in case you and that stuck-up elven dragon rider come again to oppose him. What is her name? Arya, right?" His words left Murtagh muddle-headed._ Orrin? Didn't he pledged his loyalty to Nasuada? How could he?_ Murtagh also sensed surprise from Thorn.

"As for this boy," Lothor gave Anton a glance before continuing," I've poisoned him. But first, if you want to save him, let's make a deal. It's so hard to capture you, Murtagh since you are a Rider. But finally, we've done it, thanks to this boy... remember the woman in the forest, that's how we do our work."

Murtagh growled when he found himself being tricked. "That was you?" he croaked. Thorn growled again.

Lothor flashed his evil grin. "That look on your face when you are at the forest was so dramatic. I had to conjure on an image of the boy's mum to lure you into this trap but my efforts paid off since we know you and Anton were best friends. So what do you say? Are you willing to give your life for this boy?"

Instead, a swish answered the man as Murtagh sent an arrow flying towards him. The arrow stopped in mid-air when it was about to struck the man before falling. Fear gripped Murtagh when he realised that the man did not spoke the ancient language when he cast the spell. "I assume that is an accident because I will surely kill the boy if you attempt it once again. Besides look to your surroundings," Lothor spoke softly, his eyes glaring at Murtagh.

It took Murtagh a moment to realise that both he and Thorn were surrounded by soldiers. They resembled those he fought in the forest, pale and dead. Shuffling as they advanced with their swords and spears drawn, they were dressed in tattered rags instead of their helms and armour. Murtagh felt like a fool when he saw that he had walked straight into the trap without knowing._ Strange, I should have smelt them the moment I set my paws on this village but I didn't,_ Thorn muttered. The red dragon seemed tense, with his haunches up and growling non-stop.

"These are Orrin soldiers; they've have come for you. So, I ask you again, do you agree with the terms?" Lothor queried again. Murtagh felt hapless for he had no plan in his mind. Besides, he wanted to save Anton. He pondered for a long time. Finally, he gave his answer when he made the move of placing his crossbow on the ground...

Then he picked it up suddenly and fired a shot again at the magician. This time, Lothor was caught unaware when the arrow pierced his chest, sending him tumbling down the roof. "Anton!" Murtagh shouted before rushing and caught the boy in his arms as he fell. Behind him, Thorn gave a loud roar as the dragon entered his bloody frenzy as he pounced on the soldiers, crushing and swiping at them.

Before Murtagh knew what was happening, there was chaos everywhere. Blood sprayed in all direction as Thorn swiped at a group and sent them flying. He then breathed fire at the rest, creating an inferno. The flames were so intense that the heat almost scorched Murtagh.

_Thorn! We must go!_ Murtagh shouted mentally as he rushed to his dragon. Carrying Anton in his arms, he cracked the skull of a soldier with a spin of his staff and shot another through his head with the crossbow. Many a time, he felt like drawing Zaroc but he refrained. Cutting through the horde of soldiers, he finally reached Thorn and hoisted himself and Anton on the dragon. The boy's face was as black as plum and he was mumbling and sweating profusely.

Suddenly, pain tore through his right side when he felt a spear impaled into Thorn's right flank. The dragon roared in pain while Murtagh cursed. Luckily, Thorn struggled before unleashing another torrent of red flames as he unfurled his massive wings and glided into the sky before the soldiers could attack further.

_Thorn! You're hurt,_ Murtagh spoke while sounding panicky. _Let me heal you..._

_Save your strength till we reached the monastery, most important is that we get Anton there for healing_, Thorn replied through laboured breaths as he flew. The red pair flew on, leaving behind the carnage and annihilation.

* * *

"What! You didn't kill him," King Orrin sounded furious, his loud voice echoing through the dungeons of his castle.

"My apologies, my lord; Murtagh and Thorn managed to escape and caught me unaware," Lothor replied solemnly.

King Orrin was silent for a while as he surveyed the dungeon, his heavy breathing sounding loudly. "I've followed what you have told me, to meet you in this dungeon and even have him brought here too," Orrin continued as he pointed to a short stocky figure of a man by his side," yet, you failed me by failing to kill Murtagh and Thorn despite you turning my soldiers into the undead. What kind of magician are you?" Lothor remained silent as he continued to bow before the King of Surda.

"What say you, grimstborith Vermûnd?" Orrin asked the stocky figure standing beside him.

The dwarven clan chief cleared his throat before speaking," I join you because I want Eragon, his cursed Riders as well as those accursed brethens of mine to have a taste of the humiliation I've felt when they banished me twenty years ago. Ever since, the clan of Az Sweldn rak Anhûin has suffered greatly. I'll do my best to assist you in every ways to help achieve my goals. As for Murtagh and Thorn escaping, it will make things worse for us if they spread news about your rebellion, Orrin. Nevertheless, every promblem has a solution."

"Indeed my lord," Lothor said. "They can hide, but they can't run. I've made your soldiers dressed like the villagers of Sharktooth; very soon, news of the carnage in Sharktooth will reached the Empire but no one will suspect you, my lord."

"Explain that," Orrin muttered.

"I've twisted the minds of a few of the Empire's scouts to spread the message to the High Queen that they spotted Murtagh and Thorn rampaging on Sharktooth. Nasuada might have heard that you had sent soldiers to Sharktooth, but when she sent her soldiers there to investigate and found nothing but the corpses of the villagers, they have every reason to suspect Murtagh and Thorn for the corpses of your soldiers resembled those of the villagers and Murtagh and Thorn had a past history of treachery. Very soon, they will be on the hunt for them."

The smile on Lothor's face was a cunning one. "So, you see, my lord; we have yet to reveal our trump card."

**There it go! Chapter Five is complete. Hope you like it. Next Chapter will be Eragon's point of view. Do review! I need opinions!**


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